


The Perfect Date

by Fawn_Eyed_Girl



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Sex, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Miroku is charming, Sango is here for it, Slow Burn, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fawn_Eyed_Girl/pseuds/Fawn_Eyed_Girl
Summary: When Sango gets an invitation to her ex's wedding, she has absolutely no desire to attend. Luckily, her friend Kagome offers her a solution, in the form of a very handsome, very fake boyfriend named Miroku. But what about when Sango starts wishing Miroku was her boyfriend for real?
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 61





	1. The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphireStarxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireStarxx/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope that wherever you are, you're safe and doing well.
> 
> Happy, happy birthday to my friend [SapphireStarxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireStarxx)! Sapph, you are such an amazing, thoughtful person; a great reader, and an outstanding writer and friend. I am so so glad to know you. You deserve all the MirSan content that the world can give you, and we are delivering for you TODAY!
> 
> This story also features commissioned artwork by [kalcia](https://kalcia.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And a very special thanks to [gribedli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gribedli), [kalcia](https://kalcia.tumblr.com/), [Lavendertwilight89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendertwilight89), [NeutronStarChild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeutronStarChild), and [Ruddcatha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruddcatha) for being such awesome readers of this story!

Sango trembled, the envelope in her hand shaking.

She’d known that this moment was coming; she’d known it for the past six months, since the engagement had been announced. But still, somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’d prayed that they would forget her, or he would realize how ridiculous it was to invite an ex to one’s wedding. 

But when she’d gotten the ask to the engagement party, she’d known that there was no way they would not send her an invitation to the wedding, too.

The return address that used to be _her_ return address. The stamp that she wondered if it had been in the apartment since she’d left, a year and a half before. At least the envelopes were printed, and she didn’t have to wonder if _she_ had written out the invitations herself, using one of the fine ball-point pens that Sango had left behind.

Taking a deep breath, Sango turned the envelope over. She used the pad of her forefinger to gently work open the flap, feeling it give under the pressure. She opened the envelope fully, then took out its contents. The smaller stamped envelope and the small papers made of thick card stock she put aside for now; instead, she fingered the delicate tissue paper wrapping the largest piece of the card stock and opened it up.

Inside was a cream-colored invitation; the edges were bordered with a beautiful light green and gold filigree, which wound around the invitation and formed a heart at the very bottom. (Sango already felt sick.) The invitation itself was lettered in a slightly darker green script, but Sango noticed a hint of a gold shadow behind the lettering.

They had gone all out, it seemed.

Sango grit her teeth, and read the invitation:

 _Honda Ichiro and his wife, Mai  
_ _Invite you to celebrate the wedding of their daughter, Shima  
_ _To Takeda Kuranosuke  
_ _Saturday, the 8th of August  
_ _At 4:30pm  
_ _Celebratory dinner to follow_

Yup, Sango was going to throw up.

Kuranosuke had been her boyfriend for three years. She’d been so sure that he was the one. They’d started dating her third year of college (his fourth), and were inseparable almost immediately. He’d had a kind, caring disposition; he always seemed to know what she needed, and when, almost before she knew herself. That kind of precision was kind of terrifying, she had to admit, but over time, she grew accustomed to his quirks and his weird ability to get everyone to like him. Mostly because he had eyes only for her.

Until he didn’t.

They had moved in together just after she graduated from college; she’d been accepted to Tokyo U’s sports medicine program, and she planned to become a physical therapist. Her initial idea had been to live on her own, frugally, while attending school, but Kuranosuke was working for a company, and had a good job, and asked her to move in with him. Since it would save her money, and she really did love him, she agreed. The first six months were like a dream; Sango went to class, came home, made dinner. Kuranosuke worked until 8:00 or so, was always home by 8:30, and they were able to enjoy a late dinner together. If he needed to stay out for work, he called or texted, with plenty of time so that she knew if she was cooking for one or two. (But she always cooked for two, and left him a plate in the refrigerator so he could heat it up when he got home if he wanted. If not, she made his bento box the next day with it.) School was engaging, and challenging, and she had a boyfriend who loved her. All was well.

Until it wasn’t.

Little by little, Kuranosuke started staying out more often, and calling or texting less. There were many nights at first where Sango sat at the chabudai waiting for him to come home; when he didn’t, she would simply eat, wrap up his food and put it away, and then set about her studies, watch television, or go to bed. Those nights, he sometimes didn’t get home until midnight, and often he smelled of cigarettes, cologne, or worse...a woman’s perfume. When she asked him, he brushed it off, saying that there were several women in his office who went out with them, and because he was the youngest, he was typically smushed into a corner booth with them. But one perfume in particular kept hanging around, and then…

There was the night that he didn’t come home at all.

He was tired after a night out, he’d said; he slept at the office, he’d said. But Sango knew better. The texts he sent...Kuranosuke would have called. Or, the old Kuranosuke, anyway.

So, that night, when he came home, Sango confronted him. 

Her name was Shima, he admitted. She worked in the same company, but was fresh out of college. Younger, prettier, more successful. He hoped they could still be friends. Sango told him to fuck off.

Apparently, though, Kuranosuke _did_ think they were still friends. He hadn’t deleted her on social media. He still messaged her every once in awhile. He invited her to his engagement party (engaged to Shima, of course). And now…

He had invited her to his _wedding_.

Sango sank onto the couch in her yoshitsu, the invitation dangling from her hand. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh, rage, or cry. Maybe she should do all three.

A buzzing from her pocket _did_ make her drop the invitation. She pulled out her phone from her pocket, looked down, and sighed. 

“Hey, Kagome-chan,” she said wearily. 

“ _Sango-chan_!” Kagome’s voice was excessively cheery for Sango’s mood. “ _Did you get something in the mail today_?”

So, Kagome got one too? Sango groaned inwardly and rubbed her face. _Great_.

“You mean the invitation to Kuranosuke’s wedding? Yeah, I got one.”

“ _What a jerk!_ ” Kagome’s indignant voice came through the phone. “ _I can’t believe he had the nerve to invite you. What balls_!”

“It’s okay, Kagome-chan,” Sango said. “I’m not going to go. I’ll send a gift or something.”

Kagome was silent for a moment, but Sango could hear her breathing through the phone. “Kagome-chan?” Sango added tentatively. “What are you thinking?”

Kagome didn’t say anything, but this time, Sango heard her tapping something. 

“ _What are you doing tonight, Sango-chan_?” Kagome asked suddenly.

“No—nothing,” Sango replied. “Why?”

Kagome giggled. Sango’s hackles were immediately raised. 

“ _No, Inuyasha_ ,” Kagome shouted. “ _You have to come too! You’re not getting out of this one_.” Sango rolled her eyes when she heard a grumbled assent in the background. Inuyasha was Kagome’s boyfriend, and a hanyou; he was the grumpiest person she’d ever met, but yet somehow, was a perfect little puppy around Sango’s best friend—and _only_ her. “ _Sorry, Sango-chan_ ,” Kagome added. “ _Tonight, 8pm, the izakaya. Can you make it_?”

Sango sighed. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“ _Perfect_!” Kagome’s trilled voice made Sango move the phone away from her ear. “ _See you tonight! Wear something cute_!” With a _click_ , Kagome hung up the phone.

Sango set her phone down and got up to go to her bedroom. She dragged her feet a little; it had been a long day, and the last thing she needed was a night out with Kagome and Inuyasha. Especially when Kagome had some kind of ulterior motive. 

_Still_ , she thought as she opened her closet and looked at her options for the evening, _whatever Kagome’s got planned, I kind of want to see what she’s up to_.

Sango reached into her closet and pulled out a pair of black pants and a form-fitting black v-neck sweater. If Kagome was saying “dress cute,” that was code for, “there’s a guy involved,” and that meant Sango should look nice, but not overly nice, considering the last two guys Kagome had tried to set her up with. First, there was Hojo, the very sweet, but kind of bland, guy Kagome had known since high school, who, once he had found out Sango was studying to be a physical therapist, kept trying to give Sango essential oils and salves and balms until she just said enough and stopped returning his calls. Then, there was Bankotsu, who was definitely sexy, with his long thick braid and dark blue eyes, but he had an ego the length of his braid and a mouth to match. Sango had talked with him for five minutes, said, yeah, no thanks, and left the bar (like actually ran away) and then proceeded to tell Kagome _exactly_ what she thought of her friend’s matchmaking skills. Kagome had, thankfully, not cried, and had also, equally thankfully, stopped trying to set her up.

Which was what made this evening all the more suspicious. But, Sango would be lying if she said that she wasn’t intrigued. If Kagome was actually going against Sango’s wishes and setting her up on a date, then this guy _had_ to be something special. 

And, against her better judgment, Sango’s heart started to beat faster. Just a little bit.

* * *

Kagome and Sango’s favorite izakaya was a few blocks from Sango’s apartment. It was a real dive, with low lights, rickety booths, and the best karaage in Bunkyo-ku. Sango checked her phone nervously for the time; it was already 8:15, so she was late, but if she knew Kagome, her best friend would just be getting to the bar herself. 

Sure enough, when Sango stepped inside the small, noisy bar, she caught a flash of silver hair settling into a booth against the far wall. Sango strode over to the table, where sat Kagome, with Inuyasha across from her, his dog ears atop his head wiggling at her in greeting, and next to him was…

A _man_. A beautiful, beautiful man.

“Sango-chan!” Kagome said excitedly, and jumped out of the booth to hug her friend. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Sango shrugged. “What else am I doing on a Friday night?” she said to Kagome, grinning. “Inuyasha,” she added, nodding to Kagome’s boyfriend, who simply grunted his hello back.

“Inuyasha,” admonished Kagome, “that’s no way to talk to Sango. Come on!” Sango saw the pleading look Kagome shot him, and Inuyasha immediately crossed his arms and grumbled, “Hey, Sango,” and when Sango slipped into the spot beside Kagome in the booth, he immediately growled.

“Watch it, dog boy,” Kagome said, “be nice.”

“I _am_ nice, ‘Gome,” said Inuyasha, shifting his arms. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

Kagome smiled at him. “You are,” she said, “and I’m so glad you are.” She reached across the table to squeeze his hand as his face settled into a gentle smile, just for her. 

Sango, meanwhile, couldn’t help but take in the stranger sitting across from her with mild interest. He was definitely handsome: his dark hair was tied back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, displaying his adorable ears (unlike her own elf-like ones, Sango noted) and the earrings: two in one ear, one in the other. His eyes were a sparkling...were they indigo? It was so hard to see in the bar...and they were also definitely regarding her with interest. His nose was well-formed and aqualine, and his lips were shaped into a soft, slightly teasing smirk. His navy blue t-shirt showed off a well-muscled torso, and Sango began to wonder if _finally_ , Kagome had done something right with regards to matchmaking.

“Kagome, my dear,” said the man, and holy gods, his voice was deep and musical! “You haven’t introduced me to your friend.”

Sango blinked, and turned to Kagome, who was sitting next to her, grinning a massive grin.

“Of course!” she said, and paused dramatically.

“Taijiya Sango,” Kagome added, gesturing between the two, “I would like for you to meet Sasaki Miroku…

“Your prospective boyfriend, and your date to Kuranosuke’s wedding.” 

Sango blinked, gaped at Miroku, who smiled encouragingly at her, then turned to Kagome and gaped some more. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I thought you just said that…”

“Oh, I did say that,” Kagome replied. Her grin was gloating and self-assured, and Sango felt a sudden urge to punch her best friend in the face. “What Kuranosuke did was top-level asshattery. Like, inviting an ex to your wedding? One that you fucking _lived with_? Oh, no,” she added, “it’s not cool at all. Right, Inuyasha?”

Inuyasha grunted, but Kagome gave him a Look. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “not fucking cool.” And he guzzled his beer.

Kagome smiled and turned back to Sango. “Listen, Sango-chan.” Kagome’s gray eyes were serious, and gleaming silver. You need more than just a date to the wedding; you need a _boyfriend_. One who will get Kuranosuke’s attention. One that will make him regret breaking up with you for that...that…” Kagome was searching for the word. “Little girl _hussy_.”

“Kagome,” Sango said hurriedly, “she’s only like a year younger than us.”

“ _And she stole your man, Sango-chan_ ,” Kagome shot back; her eyes flashed and her reiki flared, and Sango knew better than to challenge her friend. “You need to show up at that wedding, and you need to be beautiful—not that you aren’t, you are, you know what I mean—and sexy, and with hot man-candy on your arm who is devoted to you and only you. You need to show them both that you’ve moved on and that you are with someone even better.”

“Kagome-chan,” Sango said, the pit in her stomach deepening, “I _have_ moved on. I don’t really care what Kuranosuke and Shima-san do.”

“So you wish them well?” Kagome asked immediately.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Sango said, “but...I really don’t care. He made his choice; he’s a supreme ass, for what it’s worth. But...yeah. He can get married, and I will sit at home with my ice cream and _Attack on Titan_ and be perfectly happy.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a life,” Inuyasha grumbled; Kagome’s eyes shone, but Sango scowled at him.

“And what does _that_ mean, Inuyasha?” Sango retorted.

He shrugged, nonplussed by the hostility in her tone. “Dude treated you like shit,” he said. “You should go, take the bouzu here, and have a good fucking time. Show him you’re fucking over that shit, you know?”

“Now, hold on,” Miroku said; everyone’s attention turned to him. “I thought, Inuyasha, that you brought me here with the pretense of fixing me up for a _date_ , not to be someone’s fake boyfriend.” His indigo eyes took in every person at the table; Sango could see that he was inspecting both Kagome and her. When his eyes settled on Sango, he smirked. “I mean,” he said to her, “what qualities do you have that you would say set you apart from other potential fake girlfriends?”

Sango turned back to Miroku, eyes wide, mouth open. He simply smiled and drank his beer. “I—I’m sorry?” she said. “But…. _what_...exactly does _that_ mean?”

“Well,” he replied, now helping himself to some karaage, “there are plenty of women angling to be my fake girlfriend, you know. I’m quite charming and awfully good at social gatherings.” Inuyasha snorted, but Miroku ignored him. “I’m a houshi, for instance. I work at a shrine. I’m a very pure man.” Inuyasha snorted even louder and started laughing; Miroku gave him a beleaguered look. “Honestly,” he sighed, “I’m doing this as a favor to _you_ , Inuyasha. You told me that Kagome-san had a friend who was very pretty and single, which you are, by the way,” he added to Sango, “very pretty. However,” and now why was Sango both blushing and ready to kick his ass?, “I wasn’t thinking that I was to be sold off as a ‘fake boyfriend,’ when so many women have already asked me to be their girlfriends or bear their children. So again, Sango, my dear,” he said, and _how dare he leave off the honorific?_ , “what sets you apart? Why should I take you on, when I’ve rejected so many women before you?”

“You know what?” Sango was fucking _done_. Five minutes in, and Mr. Sexy already had a mouth she wanted to nail shut. “I don’t need this. Kagome-chan, Inuyasha, you go to the wedding. Without me. Have fun.” She got to her feet and made to leave, but Kagome’s hand on her arm caused her to look down at her friend, whose face was open, upturned, and pleading.

“Please, Sango-chan,” Kagome said, and it almost sounded to Sango like she was begging. “Please. Inuyasha and I won’t know anyone there. I thought we could have fun...as a foursome? And that you could also maybe get a little revenge on Kuranosuke, maybe? I mean, Miroku _is_ cute, isn’t he?” She looked pleadingly at Sango, who sighed. “And Miroku-san, Sango _is_ cute, isn’t she?” She turned those luminous gray eyes onto Miroku, who also sighed. “Come on, you two,” Kagome cajoled. “What do you say? Will you be fake boyfriend and girlfriend to stick it to Sango’s ex, who is a dickweed and who totally needs to see Sango with another guy—another very hot, very sexy guy?” Kagome’s voice dropped and she looked at them both conspiratorially. 

Sango chanced a glance at Miroku; his indigo eyes narrowed, and he held his chin between his thumb and forefinger in thought. He looked at her, but his look wasn’t demeaning, or critical; he was considering her carefully, his eyes softening to a quiet smolder. Sango felt her heart begin to beat a little bit out of rhythm.

He _was_ awfully cute, even if his mouth kind of got in the way. Maybe...maybe it would work.

“I’m willing,” Sango heard herself saying, “if Miroku-san is willing.”

Miroku dropped his hand and reached across the table to take one of Sango’s hands in both of his. “My dear, sweet Sango,” he said, his voice husky and _why did Sango like that?_ , “I would be honored to fake date you and be your fake boyfriend to stick it to your ex at his wedding.” His warm eyes sought out her brown ones, and held them steady. Sango’s breath caught; she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she could only…

“And perhaps, after the wedding,” Miroku said, squeezing her hand more tightly, “perhaps you would consider bearing my children?”

Sango rose, ripped her hand from his, and raised it to slap him, hard; when he started to laugh, as did Kagome and Inuyasha, she realized he was joking, and flopped back into her seat, sulky that she’d been had.

But, she was only partially sulky, because somehow, she’d scored a date to Kuranosuke’s wedding, and he was hot, and he was smooth, and he was gonna be the _perfect_ date to show Kuranosuke she’d moved on.

Because, even though she didn’t really care all that much, the part of Sango that did?

She _really_ wanted to show her ex what he was missing.

And...she suspected that Miroku was the perfect guy to help her do that.


	2. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sango and Miroku attend Kuranosuke and Shima's wedding and fake boyfriend and girlfriend. But they can't deny the heat that is building between the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Hello everyone! The [SapphireStarxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireStarxx) birthday party continues!
> 
> Welcome to the next chapter of The Perfect Date! We've got some wedding action, and I hope you enjoy!

“Come _on_ , Sango-chan, let me see!” 

“Oh, fuck _no_.” Kagome was starting to get on her nerves. Sango couldn’t believe that she’d let Kagome talk her into this dress, and now? Looking in the mirror, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to wear it at all, let alone go to this stupid wedding.

Two months. For two months, Kagome had insisted that Sango and Miroku hang out together, under the guise of, “if someone sees you together, that makes you showing up at the wedding together more reasonable.” And while Kagome wasn’t wrong, Sango also had to admit that Miroku, as sexy and handsome as he was, was also kind of dick. Her initial assessment had been correct. Miroku had a mouth on him, and he and Sango ended up spending most of their time together sniping at each other. Well, that wasn’t exactly true? Miroku liked to compliment her, and then make a passing snide comment, which drove her crazy and made her want to beat him up. And then, he would give her a lovely compliment, and she would be left in his wake, panting, stammering, gasping. 

He...really knew how to get under her skin.

So...the dress. At first, when she and Kagome went dress shopping, Sango had kind of wanted something that would make Kuranosuke take notice, remember how attractive he thought she was. Then Kagome had suggested she could also buy something to make _Miroku_ remember how attractive she was, and for some reason Sango would never understand, she went along with that little idea. She remembered how she and Kagome had giggled over the sexiness of the dress, and how Miroku would be the envy of just about every guy there (not Inuyasha...never Inuyasha, of course).

But now? Looking at herself in the mirror, in that dress? Well, Sango was kind of getting cold feet. And she wasn’t even the one getting married.

“Come on out, Sango-chan.”

“No way.” Sango crossed her arms and stamped her stockinged foot. 

“The boys will be here in 15 minutes,” Kagome pressed. “Are you even packed?”

They were staying at the hotel where the reception was taking place. Kagome had insisted, and Sango had, in turn, insisted that the two of them share a room, _and_ Kagome had to swear that she would not try and put one over on Sango and make it so that she and Miroku would end up sharing that room “by accident,” instead.

“I’m totally packed, Kagome-chan,” Sango huffed. “I just...can’t I wear something else?”

“I can’t _tell_ whether or not you should,” Kagome shot back, “unless I can see how you look.”

“ _Fine_.” Sango didn’t like this. She _knew_ Kagome was going to tell her to wear the dress and…

If she were being honest, she was scared. Scared that she looked good. Scared that their plan would work, and Kuranosuke would notice her.

But most of all, she realized with a shock, she was scared that _Miroku_ would like her in the dress.

Because...for all his comments, and all his insinuations, he was at times charming, sweet, and kind. And if he saw her in this dress…

Things between them might change. 

And...she might want them to change.

Oh, _fuck me_ , Sango thought with a start. _This is just a fake date. He’s my boyfriend for one night. I can totally handle this. And I can totally look smokin’ hot while I do_.

Slowly, _slowly_ , Sango slid open the bedroom door. Kagome was standing outside the door; she looked adorable in her emerald green fit and flare. It was off-the-shoulder and had a sweetheart neckline; around her neck she wore a thin gold chain with a gold disc with the English letter _K_ printed on it in script. Her earrings were gold hoops, and her hair was natural, long and curling around her shoulders. Her smokey eyes widened as she took Sango in.

“Holy hell, Sango-chan,” Kagome breathed. “You look _amazing_.”

“You—you think so?” Sango asked. 

“ _YES_ ,” Kagome insisted. “Stunning. Every guy there is gonna lose his shit…”

“Except Inuyasha,” they said together, and laughed.

“But seriously, Sango-chan…” Kagome let out a low whistle. “We picked the _right_ dress for you.”

Sango looked down at her dress and smoothed it out. “I think you might be right,” she said with a soft smile.

Her dress was a beautiful hot pink jersey; full sleeves, fully covered in the front, _extremely_ form-fitting, floor-length with a slit that ran dangerously high up Sango’s thigh.

“Stunning,” Kagome breathed. “Now, turn around.” And she made a circular motion with her forefinger, and Sango obliged, turning slowly around.Kagome audibly gasped, and Sango knew that she was making the right impression.

The back of the dress was fully open, and slightly draped; it revealed her toned back muscles (Sango didn’t work out as much as she did for nothing!) that would flex when she moved. The open back went all the way down to her waist; the all-in-one Sango wore underneath kept the girls in place, and tucked away any part of her body looking to poke out. She wore her hair in a long, sleek ponytail, tucked over her shoulder, to give full attention to her back.

“I think…” Kagome said, and Sango could hear the _strain_ in her friend’s voice, “I think that _I_ now wanna make out with you, Sango-chan.” Sango gasped and spun around. “What?” Kagome said, shrugging. “You’re _hot_. Your back?” Kagome brought three fingers to her lips and kissed them. “Chef’s kiss, girl.”

The knock at the door caused them both to squeak. “What the…” Kagome muttered. “I think they’re early. When is Inuyasha _ever_ early?” She went to the door, and Sango went into her bedroom to grab her overnight bag. “Hey you two,” she heard Kagome say in the genkan. “Hey, Inu. _Wow_ , you look totally fuckable.” 

Sango rolled her eyes as she heard Inuyasha say, “Fuck, Kagome, not so loud,” followed by a loud, smacking kiss. 

It was now or never. Sango took a deep breath, and walked out into the washitsu.

“Hey, guys,” she said with a smile, “you’re early.”

Inuyasha had his arm around Kagome and his face in her hair; he liked to inhale her scent right away as soon as he saw her, Sango knew. It was his youkai half yearning to be sated by his love. He opened one eye, blinked, and nodded at her. And Sango blushed, because from Inuyasha? That was as good as a “you look beautiful” and she would take it.

Then she heard a throat clearing, and she turned to Kagome and Inuyasha’s right, and saw her date for the evening. And she smiled.

Miroku was wearing a dark gray suit with a lighter gray shirt underneath, a violet tie, and a beautiful light blue pocket square. His suit was well-fitting, and his hair was once again tied back in a low ponytail. She could see his earrings glimmering, and his indigo eyes were lit up appreciatively when he saw her.  
  
“Sa—Sango,” he said huskily. “You...you look…

“Amazing. You look...amazing.”

Sango blushed again, in spite of herself, and smiled shyly. “Thanks,” she said. “You...clean up pretty well, you know.”

Now it was his turn to blush. “Eh,” he said, “I do okay.”

Sango and Miroku stood there for a long moment, staring at each other, not saying anything. She was...totally caught up in his eyes, and her mind was reeling. She’d known he was handsome, yes, but in a _suit_? In a beautiful, dark gray _suit_? Sango couldn’t believe how...how…

“Are you two ready to get the fuck out of here?” Inuyasha blurted out, causing Sango and Miroku to tear their eyes away from each other and turn to Inuyasha and Kagome, who were staring at them. Inuyasha was scowling, but Kagome was grinning. 

“Why don’t you two get our bags?” Kagome said, giving Inuyasha a gentle nudge. He paused to give her a kiss on her temple; she giggled and tilted her head so that he could kiss her lips. 

“Wait here,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get the bags. Get your shoes on, okay?” Kagome nodded, and he left the genkan to go down the hall and get Kagome’s overnight bag.

“Goddammit, woman!” they heard him howl. “Why the _fuck_ do you need three bags?”

“One is toiletries, one is clothes, and one is for this dress!” she yelled back. 

“But why can’t you just put everything into one bag?” he shouted.

“Inuyasha, come on, please?” Kagome cajoled.

They heard him huff all the way out in the genkan. “Fine,” he groused loudly. They heard him dragging Kagome’s bags down the hall, then he appeared, scowling, three bags hoisted over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Kagome slipped on her shoes, picked up her little sparkly bag, and took a shawl out of the closet. “Sango-chan?” she asked her friend. 

Sango shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Long sleeves.”

“But your back,” Kagome said.

“If she needs a jacket,” Miroku answered, “she can have mine.”

“Miroku-san,” Sango breathed. “You—”

He smiled. “It’s fine,” he said. “Now, where’s your bag?”

Sango blushed. “My—my bedroom,” she said.

“Which one?”

“Second down on the left,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll be back,” he replied, and jogged down the hall. Sango heard him go into her room, and in a few seconds, he was back, her overnight bag in his hand.

“See?” Inuyasha said to Kagome. “ _Sango_ knows how to pack for _one fucking night_.”

Kagome stood on her tiptoes and whispered in Inuyasha’s ear. He blushed, coughed, and said to Sango, “get your shoes on. We’re leaving. _Now_.” He opened the door to the apartment for Kagome, who went out, Inuyasha following. 

Miroku looked at Sango. “Ready?” he said with a smile.

Sango smiled back wearily and went to slip on her own shoes and grab her bag. “Ready,” she said, “ _fake boyfriend_.”

* * *

Kuranosuke and Shima’s wedding was at the Ritz-Carlton in Minato-ku. Shima had apparently wanted a Western wedding, and her parents not only obliged, but went all out. Sango had only even seen this hotel from the outside, and the inside was just as stunning as she imagined: an open, beautiful lobby, with plush seats and mahogany tables. They checked into their rooms (and Sango made sure that she and Kagome were in one room, and Inuyasha and Miroku were in the other room). She and Kagome freshened up, and then the four of them made their way down to the chapel for the actual ceremony itself.

They reached the doors; Kuranosuke’s younger brother was standing at the entrance, handing out programs. “Sango-san,” he said, his eyes widening when he saw her. “I’m so glad that you could come. I know that Kuranosuke will be... _glad_...to see you.” His eyes dragged up and down her body, and Sango felt a little self-conscious in her dress.

“She couldn’t stay away,” Miroku said, coming up behind her and slipping an arm about her shoulders. “It’s a real honor for us to be able to be here today.”

Kuranosuke’s little brother’s eyes narrowed at Miroku. “And you are…” he said, a little fierceness in his tone.

_Oh_ , Sango thought. So _that’s_ how it is.

Were they expecting poor, pitiful Sango? To arrive without a date, tagging along after Inuyasha and Kagome? Because while it was okay for Kuranosuke to move on, it wasn’t okay for her?

Oh, _hell no_.

“Daisuke,” Sango said calmly, “this is Sasaki Miroku, my boyfriend.”

Miroku bowed his head. “Sasaki Miroku of the Shiroi Jinja,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Takeda Daisuke,” Daisuke replied, “Waseda University student. Nice to meet you.” His voice was impossibly strained, and Sango inwardly smirked.

She plucked a program out of his hand. “Thanks, Daisuke-kun,” she said, “and look! Inuyasha and Kagome-chan are here too.” She tugged Miroku into the chapel, and chuckled to herself as Kagome started talking Daisuke’s ear off. 

“Is it gonna be like that all night, Sango-san?” Miroku whispered as they made their way to seats. 

“Is what gonna be like that all right, Miroku-san?” Sango asked him, delicately lifting the hem of her dress as they walked along, looking for four seats together. 

“People...being suspicious of me, judgy of you?” Miroku gestured to an empty row, and he went in first, so that he could be on the end, and Sango and Kagome could sit next to each other.

_Thoughtful of him_ , she realized.

Sango slipped into the row beside him, and settled on the cushioned bench. “I dated Kuranosuke for three years,” she said. “We lived together...in the apartment he now lives in with Shima-san.”

Miroku let out a low whistle. “Ouch,” he said. 

“No kidding,” Sango replied. 

“Why did he invite you?” Miroku asked.

Sango shrugged. “When we split...when he dumped me, really,” she corrected herself, “he told me that he wanted to stay friends.”

“And apparently he did,” Miroku guessed.

“Yup,” Sango confirmed. “So I went to the engagement party with Inuyasha and Kagome, but for a wedding…”

“You needed a date for this,” Miroku interrupted.

Sango blushed and looked down at her dress, her fingers fiddling in her lap. “Kagome-chan was right,” she murmured. “I wasn’t going to come, but she insisted, _and_ insisted that I needed not only a date, but…”

“A boyfriend,” Miroku finished. Sango nodded. He let out a breath. “Kagome was right,” Miroku said. “You _do_ need a boyfriend for this one.” He moved closer to her; Sango could smell him, musky and warm and Sango wanted desperately to lean into his touch. But before she could move, he spoke again.

“And,” he added in a low whisper, “I have to say that I’m really glad that I’m the one who go gets to be your fake boyfriend.”

Sango gasped, and her heart started beating out of rhythm. She turned her face towards his; his deep indigo eyes were dark, and she thought she saw a hint of desire in them. 

_You’re in a chapel, Sango_ , she told herself. _You’re in a chapel, and you cannot kiss him_.

But he was slipping an arm around her, drawing her close. His mouth moved towards her ear; his breath was hot, and suddenly, so was Sango.

“Sango,” he breathed; she wanted those lips _on_ her. _Why_ did she want him to kiss her?

“Oh, Sango-chan!” said a familiar, cheery voice, and Sango whipped her head around to see Kagome and Inuyasha sliding into their row. “We were talking with Daisuke-kun, and _wow_ ,” she added, “he was surprised to see you here with someone.”

Sango nodded. “Yes,” she agreed, “so it seemed.”

“Then it’s definitely good you have Miroku-san here with you, isn’t it?” Kagome whispered gleefully. “Kuranosuke’s gonna shit himself!”

A clawed hand lightly gripped Kagome’s shoulder, pulling her closer. Kagome let out a little giggle, and offered Inuyasha a kiss. He growled, and relaxed his grip on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for swearing, Inuyasha,” Kagome rejoined, “but you swear all the time, and I think it was warranted in this case.”

Inuyasha opened his mouth to reply, but music suddenly filled the chapel, and everyone in the room turned their heads to see the doors open. Sango reached out and grasped Kagome’s hand; Miroku’s hand went to her knee, and he squeezed it lightly, offering her the support that he knew she needed. 

It was Kuranosuke.

He looked just as she remembered: tall, handsome, his shaggy hair slicked back neatly. His tux was crisp, and clean, and he looked just as good in that suit as she would have imagined that he would. He walked down the aisle with his mother, who also looked as Sango remembered: tiny, pinched face...a woman that, looking back, she was glad _not_ to be her son’s oyome-san. 

Sango smiled. That was someone else’s job now.

Kuranosuke and his mother stopped at the first row. He bowed deeply to her, she bowed her head lightly, and then he helped her into her seat. Then, Kuranosuke stepped up to the front, under a small arbor that had been brought in and decorated with flowers. Sango could see the happiness radiating from his entire being, and Sango felt her heart sink, and her stomach twisted and churned. She shouldn’t have come there...she shouldn’t have…

And then she remembered that Kagome was on her right; she felt Miroku’s hand on her knee, steadying her, keeping her steady. She had support, and she could do this. 

The music switched to “Ave Maria.” The people in the chapel rose; Miroku helped Sango to her feet, and they all turned to the doors of the chapel. One by one, the bridesmaids made their way down the aisle; Sango cringed a little at the garish color of the dresses, and Kagome elbowed her and flashed her a quick smirk. Sango was starting to feel a little bit better, and then…

Shima and her father came down the aisle. And Sango could see that Shima’s dress? It was _stunning_. It was strapless, and the bodice was edged in a beautiful lace, which was mirrored in the hem. Shima wore long gloves, and carried a huge bouquet full of red roses and baby’s breath, and she wore a short veil held back with a sparkly headband. Her hair was styled in a low sweeping bun with tendrils loose. Sango could see Kuranosuke at the end of the aisle, his face aglow with the softness of the love for his soon-to-be wife. Sango trembled, and starting to breathe a little heavy and irregularly, but Miroku slipped his arm about her waist and held her tightly. And _that_ made her shiver, even more than any leftover feelings she held for Kuranosuke.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, “and you are _definitely_ better off without this guy.”

“How—how do you know?” she breathed.

Miroku scoffed quietly as the ceremony began. “That guy? That smirk? The way he looks at that girl? Please.” He rolled his eyes. “This marriage won’t last two years. It’ll last until he finds another girl to chase. Right now? She’s all he can focus on. But in six months he’s not gonna be interested in her anymore. Yeah,” Miroku added, “you deserve someone better than that loser.”

Sango blushed, and as they were seated, and he slid his arm from her waist to her shoulders, Sango found that she really didn’t mind...at all. The warm pressure of Miroku’s arm against her body gave her a kind of grounding that she hadn’t had in a long time...maybe ever...and as they listened to the Western minister drone on and on about love and commitment and things that Kuranosuke had no idea at all about, she found herself wondering if she might be allowed to find those things... with Miroku.

Because just a few hours into being her “fake” boyfriend, he was already probably the best boyfriend she’d ever had. He was reading the situation, and her response to it, weirdly well, almost like he was completely attuned to her very being. And she hadn’t thought she would say this, but...she liked when he touched her. She liked the feeling of him: the warmth of his hand, the easy way he applied a comforting pressure to his touch, exactly when and how she needed it. She definitely was surprised by how attracted to him she was, but also? She was surprised that he maybe seemed attracted to her, too.

The ceremony ended, the bride and groom kissed, and Sango was so caught up in her reverie that she nearly forgot to clap and then rise with the rest of the guests. Miroku removed his arm from her shoulders so he could applaud too, and Sango nearly grabbed his arm to keep it where it was. They waited until the wedding party filed out; then, it was their turn for the greeting queue, where Sango would have to come face-to-face with her ex.

To say she was nervous was a bit of an understatement. But Kagome turned to Sango, and grabbed her hand. Inuyasha’s ears were laid flat against his head, and he was snarling softly. And Miroku’s hand went back to her waist, and the way he was absently toying with the draped fabric of her dress there, his fingers brushing against the small of her back, well…

It was _doing things_ to her that were probably inappropriate for a chapel ceremony. 

But still...it felt good to know that she had the support of her friends, and of her fake boyfriend, to do what she had to do next.

The queue to congratulate the bride and groom stretched back into the chapel. Sango, Miroku, Kagome, and Inuyasha waited their turn; the four of them were very tense, because they knew what was coming could be hard on Sango. Inuyasha stood at the lead of their little group; Sango knew that this was his way of protecting her, and she couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Kagome kept Sango’s hand firmly ensconced in hers, and offered a little squeeze every once in awhile as they moved through the queue. 

And finally, Miroku. His hand still firmly resting on the small of her back, applying a gentle pressure each time they moved. Like he was pushing her along, but also supporting her, every step of the way. Once again, Sango couldn’t help but feel that he was the best boyfriend she’d ever had, fake or not. 

Before she was ready, Kagome was tugging her along, and Miroku was steering her, all towards Kuranosuke and Shima. The bride and groom were standing outside the chapel, beaming with happiness. Sango tried to push away the sick feeling in her stomach, thinking about the fact that she had a shield around her in Inuyasha, Kagome, and Miroku.

“Sango.” It was Kuranosuke, and oh god, why did he have to look so handsome in a tux?

“Ku—Kuranosuke,” Sango stuttered, her face flushing. “ _Kekkon_ _omedetou gozaimasu_.” She bowed, and kept her head lowered.

“Yes!” It was Kagome who spoke so enthusiastically. “ _Kekkon omedetou gozaimasu_ , Kuranosuke-san, Shima-san. It was a beautiful ceremony. Thank you for inviting us!” Sango couldn’t tell if Inuyasha’s accompanying growl was threatening or kind, and again the thought made her smile.

“Sango.” Kuranosuke’s voice drew her back up. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I see that you brought a date? Is that right?”

“Yes, it is,” said Miroku, before Sango could answer. He bowed briefly. “Sasaki Miroku of the Shiroi Jinja. Sango’s boyfriend. _Kekkon omedetou gozaimasu_. I hope that this is Sango and I before long.” And he winked at Sango, who gaped at him. 

“Oh, how wonderful that would be, right, anata?” Shima glowed at her new husband, who tried to look equally enthusiastic and failed. Shima took both of Sango’s hands in her own. “I was so worried you wouldn’t come, but here you are! And with such a handsome boyfriend too! We’ll have to catch up later, right? It’s been so long since we’ve...” 

“Come on,” Inuyasha said flatly, “we’re holding up the line.” He nodded at Kuranosuke and Shima, and took Kagome by the hand. 

“Right!” Kagome said. “Once again, _omedetou gozaimasu_ , Kuranosuke-san, Shima-san! Coming, Sango?” she added, looking at her friend.

“Y—es,” Sango said. She nodded at Kuranosuke and Shima; Shima dipped her head back at Sango, but Kuranosuke merely stared at Sango, a frown playing on his lips. Miroku took Sango by the elbow and led her away, so that the next set of well-wishers could take their place.

“What—why did you do that?” Sango breathed as they walked to catch up to Inuyasha and Kagome.

Miroku frowned. “That guy…” he said. “I don’t like him.”

Sango giggled in spite of herself. “You said that before.”

“And I meant it before.” Miroku took Sango out of the throng of people heading to the cocktail hour, and took her hands in his. “I’m not kidding, Sango. I’m here as your boyfriend, and I intend to play the role fully.” He leaned in; his breath was hot against her cheek. “And I mean...fully.”

Sango was then aware of his hand dipping slightly below her waist, resting on the beginning of the soft swell of her ass. She let out an _eep_ and jumped away from him; he chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Sango,” he added softly, tickling her ear, “I will be a perfect gentleman...because that’s what you deserve.”

He stood up, and turned, and offered her his arm. “Shall we?” he said.

Sango was still breathing deeply from that moment. He...he was…

“Okay,” she said at last, stepping forward and taking his arm. “I trust you to be that perfect gentleman... _Miroku_.”

* * *

The Grand Ballroom at the Ritz Carlton was one of the more impressive rooms Sango had seen in her life. It was technically four ballrooms, but the hotel had opened it up completely to accommodate all the guests at the wedding, plus the live band, and the dance floor. The band played a smooth jazz as the guests filed in from the cocktail hour and found their seats, and Sango was pleased to see that the four of them had, indeed, been seated together. Sango had sunk gratefully into her seat, secretly pleased that Miroku pulled back the chair for her and then pushed it in. 

Dinner was a mixture of traditional and Western food. It opened with a fish course (salmon) with miso soup, and then, sea bream, shrimp, and red rice, followed by wagyu beef and potatoes, and then a beautiful wedding cake. The sake barrel was opened, and everyone got a carafe at their table, and the wait staff was careful to make sure that they stayed full.

And even though it was her ex’s wedding, Sango had to admit...she was having a good time. The food was delicious, the room was beautiful, and the company was…well, Kagome was attentive and chatty, Inuyasha was watchful, and Miroku was…

Miroku was handsy, but not in an offensive way. He was mindful of her personal space, but also sought to comfort her. When the bridal party entered, and everyone was on their feet cheering, he noticed that Sango simply stood, clapping politely. He clapped once or twice, then placed his hand again on the small of her back, warm, soft, and comforting. Sango leaned into him a bit, and felt him increase the pressure of his touch. And then, at dinner, he tugged her a little bit closer to his, and kept one arm slung around the back of her chair as much as possible, occasionally brushing his fingertips against her shoulder, making her shiver. It was all lovely…and confusing.

After dinner, the band struck up some livelier music, and Kagome immediately jumped to her feet and turned to Inuyasha. “Dance with me?” she asked him. Sango saw the look of hunger flash across Inuyasha’s eyes; he set down his cup of sake and got to his feet as well.

“With you, ‘Gome?” he replied. “Always.” And the two of them headed out to the dance floor and began to dance. Sango watched them, a soft smile playing on her lips, as she saw her best friend and her boyfriend move sensually across the floor. Inuyasha was a grump, but he definitely knew how to dance, and Kagome’s fit and flare skirt swirled around seductively, showing off the black crinoline she had put on underneath for precisely this reason. Inuyasha twirled and dipped Kagome, and Sango could see her friend’s laughing, totally-in-love-with-her-boyfriend face as they danced. She sighed, almost without realizing it. She imagined what it could be like to be out on the floor, her body molded to another person’s, one hand on her back guiding her effortlessly, the other clasping her own hand to pull her close...

“Sango.” Miroku’s voice brought her out of her reverie. She blinked, and saw that he was standing next to her, his own hand outstretched. He had taken off his suit jacket; it was hanging on the back of his chair. “I saw you watching Kagome-san and Inuyasha. Would _you_ like to dance...with me?” His indigo eyes gazed down at her, hopeful. 

Sango blushed, and accepted his hand, the shiver going through her arm as they touched not escaping her notice. She allowed him to help her stand, and together, they made their way out to the dance floor. As Miroku took her into his arms, she couldn’t help but notice Kuranosuke’s eyes on them. He was dancing with Shima, but he was looking at Sango with something akin to longing in his eyes.

“Only look good when I’m not his anymore,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Miroku asked her.

“Nothing,” Sango smiled. “Let’s just dance.”

Miroku smiled back at her, his strong arms already pulling her close. She felt his fingers trail down her spine, and her entire body shivered.

“You okay?” he whispered as he began to move her across the floor.

“Yeah,” she breathed. He pulled her close so that they were cheek-to-cheek; his breath was warm against her skin, and he smelled of fresh rain, and sage, and Sango found herself wondering if that was his natural scent, or if he wore a light cologne. 

“Do I smell acceptable?” he asked in a low voice, and Sango realized that she’d been sniffing him. She squeaked as he chuckled and spun them across the floor. 

She was pleased to see that he was maybe as good a dancer as Inuyasha; she’d often been jealous of Kagome’s dance partner, who led her so easily and expertly. But Miroku was also sure-footed, and smooth, and good with his hands; when he spun her around, he shifted his hand to keep hold of hers, making sure that she stayed steady on her feet. He held her tightly, but not overly so; he was clearly the lead, and he guided her with confidence. And every time his hand drifted up her back, the feel of his skin on hers made her heady and she nearly forgot where she was and what she was doing. She _liked_ dancing with him: she felt safe in his arms, she felt confident in the steps, and she felt her heart racing whenever her breasts pressed against the hardness that was his chest. 

The music slowed, and Miroku wrapped Sango up in his arms; automatically, her hands slipped around his neck, tangling up in the loose hairs. Their foreheads pressed together, and their eyes met. Sango’s heart was racing; she was sure Miroku could feel it through their clothes, and that made her wildly nervous. 

His eyes held her solidly, his gaze dark, and intense, the depths of his indigo eyes drawing her in even more deeply. She was only faintly aware of the fact that they weren’t really dancing anymore; they were swaying, practically in one spot, completely wrapped up in each other. He felt good, so good...and he _had_ been such a gentleman, the entire night. So why did Sango want to see what he was like when he _wasn’t_ a gentleman? Why did she want to know how he looked out of his shirt and tie—if he was as defined and muscled as she thought? Why did she want to know what she could do that would make him moan her name and weep for her? Why did she…?

Why did she want these things?

“Sango,” Miroku said, his voice deep and husky, “may I…?”

She blinked and pulled away from him slightly. What was he asking…?

“For show, of course,” he said, but his eyes told her that statement was a lie. He wanted to kiss her. Miroku wanted to kiss her.

“Of course,” she breathed, and tilted her head slightly so their lips could make contact…

“Hey everyone!” It was Kuranosuke’s brother Daisuke, and Sango and MIroku jerked apart and looked up to where the band was playing. Daisuke held the singer’s microphone, and was speaking.

“It’s time for the bride to throw her bouquet!” he shouted. “All the single ladies, go and stand in the center of the dance floor, and my brand-new nee-san will throw her bouquet so we can see who gets married next!”

“This is such a stupid tradition,” Sango muttered.

“Is it?” Miroku asked her, a teasing grin on his face. “Why don’t you do it? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“Kagome will be the one who catches it, for sure,” Sango groused, looking around for her friend. “Where is Kagome, anyway?”

Miroku shrugged. “Bathroom?” he suggested. He gave her a little shove towards the center of the dance floor. “Go on,” he said to her. “Let’s see if I’m right, that today is your lucky day.”

Sango scowled, but there was no bite in her frown, and she went over to join the rest of the women in the middle of the dance floor. Shima was standing at the edge of the dance floor, holding her bouquet. She turned around so her back faced the women. “Ready?” she called out. “One….two... _three_!” She hurled the bouquet over her shoulder, then spun around eagerly to see who would catch it.

It was a free-for-all. The women all rushed together, hoping they would each get there first and catch it. Sango hung back, her interest fading by the second. The bouquet skipped across the crowd of women, slipping through the fingers, and the last woman’s outstretched hand sent it flying through the air yet again…

And right into Sango’s surprised arms.

A chorus of groans went up from the group, which started to slowly disperse. Sango stood, stunned, staring at the beautiful bouquet of roses in her hands. Had she...had she really been lucky? Had she really caught the bouquet?

A deep laugh from beside her caught her attention, and Sango spun around to see Miroku standing there, laughing at her. “See?” he told her. “I told you…today is your lucky day.”

He was so smug, so handsome, so sexy, with his eyes shining at her and his lips curled into a smirk, that Sango couldn’t help it: she marched over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and drew him into a deep, passionate kiss. Miroku froze—in shock, she supposed, but what the hell, right?—and then he groaned, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her up, deepening the kiss.

His lips were soft, and Sango rubbed against them, eager to find her way into his mouth. After a day... _no._

After _weeks_ of admiring him, watching him, and thinking about him, this was the moment she’d wanted: a kiss. Between them. A kiss that would light them both on fire and bring her back to life.

Because, she realized now, since Kuranosuke, she’d closed herself off completely to the idea of love. She’d been burned so badly, hurt so irrevocably, that she thought she would never be able to feel—to love—again. But when she met Miroku, it was as though a switch flipped on again in her brain: the switch that opened up her ability to be loved, and to love, in return. And maybe this wasn’t love (yet), but holy hell, did it feel better than anything she’d felt in a long time.

“Sango,” Miroku murmured against her lips, “you feel...you are…”

“You too,” she breathed, and went back for another kiss. When his tongue pried apart her lips, she allowed him in, rejoicing in the sweet taste of sake and of his mouth. Their tongues met, and pressed, and swirled, and Sango may have made a strangled sound, right there, in front of the whole wedding.

And she did not even care.

“Are you ready to go?” he whispered, and she nodded. 

_Oh_ , was she ever.

Miroku broke from her and gently took one of her hands from around his neck. He pressed a delicate kiss to her palm, and she shivered as he led her by the hand over to their table. Sango frowned; Kagome’s shawl was gone, as was her bag. She’d wanted to let her friend know they were leaving, so that Kagome wouldn’t worry, but apparently she was the one who should be concerned?

“I’m sure they went out for air,” Miroku shrugged. He took his jacket off the back of his chair and wrapped it around Sango. “See?” he told her. “I did say I would keep you warm.”

_Warm_? She was _burning_.

Miroku pressed a quick kiss to her temple, then took her hand again. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

She squeezed his hand. “Yes,” she agreed. She’d had enough of the wedding, and wanted to spend more time...alone...with Miroku.

Out on the terrace. Outside her room. Maybe even inviting him in for a bit, before Kagome got back…

“Sango?” It was Kuranosuke. He looked concerned. “Are you leaving so soon?”

Sango and Miroku looked at each other, and Miroku gave Sango a kiss on the cheek. “My girlfriend is tired,” he told Kuranosuke, “and I’m going to take her up to the room to rest.”

Kuranosuke looked...sad? Defeated? “Sango,” he said, “I was hoping we could...you know...talk. About what happened. I’m sorry that things went the way that they did. If I could make it up to you, I would.”

Miroku actually growled, and Sango had to press a hand to his arm. “Thanks, Kuranosuke,” she replied, “but you know what? You did me a favor. If you hadn’t cheated on me and dumped me, I would have never met Miroku. And he’s amazing, and ten times the man that you’ll ever be.” She bowed. “ _Omedetou gozaimasu_ ,” she said again, and turned, and left the ballroom, tugging Miroku after her.

For once in her life, Sango felt _free_ , without any kind of regret or obligation. She’d come, she’d done her part, and she’d realized that staying hung up over this guy was absolutely, 100%, not worth it. 

As she and Miroku left the ballroom, as she considered his handsome and strong profile walking alongside her, Sango realized that as much as Kuranosuke was not worth her time, Miroku _was_. 

And...she wanted to see where things went.


	3. The Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miroku walks Sango back to her hotel room, but...there are...complications. Things get spicy between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the characters from the manga and/or anime.
> 
> Welcome to the final chapter of The Perfect Date! This chapter contains sexual content, so please, as always, heed the tags, and enjoy!
> 
> This chapter features some very special commissioned artwork by [kalcia](https://kalcia.tumblr.com/)!

Sango and Miroku walked together down the hall to their rooms—the hotel had put them up across from each other, and Sango and Kagome had claimed one room, while Miroku and Inuyasha had the other. Sango was...disappointed to see the evening end, because after all, if Miroku was only going to be her boyfriend for one night, then she wanted the night to last.

They had spent the last hour alone together, away from the party, and it had been... _nice_ . They got drinks from the bar, and went out onto the terrace, just enjoying the view of the city and each other’s company. They talked about work, and about school, about Inuyasha and how grumpy he was (but how loyal and protective he was of his friends), and about Kagome and how cheery she was (but also how loyal and protective _she_ was). The one topic they did not broach was whatever... _this_...was, that was happening between them.

Because something _was_ happening. Sango could feel it. It had been building slowly over the last few weeks, and now? It had culminated in the sexual tension, the looks, the sighs, the touches, and now, a kiss.

Holy gods, _a kiss_. One that...were Sango to kiss anyone else from here on out, she would compare all other kisses to that one.

A kiss that made her want more kisses from Miroku, and maybe...something more.

They’d had such a good time talking out on the terrace, though, that Sango knew that any chance of getting that ‘something more’ would be shot to hell that night. Inuyasha and Kagome would surely be back in their rooms by now, and while there might be some kisses outside the door, that was all that would be happening, save for Kagome’s squeals and excited demands to know what was going on between the two of them. Like Sango could even tell her that, because she didn’t know herself. 

But she wanted to. More than anything.

“Well,” Miroku said, clearing his throat, his arm still about Sango’s waist underneath his suit jacket (that she was still wearing), “I guess this is the end of our relationship.”

He was trying to keep it light, and she appreciated that. “I—I guess so,” she said, hoping the disappointment wasn’t clear in her voice. “But...I’ll see you around?”

Miroku’s smile was meek, and a little sad. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess that you...oh, honestly, what the actual _fuck_ is wrong with those two?”

Sango turned and looked at her door. She let out a loud, angry moan. “Ka—Ka— _Kagome_ ,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands to her head and shaking it furiously.

There, hanging from the doorknob, was a big, bright, _Do Not Disturb_ sign. 

Kagome had put up a _Do Not Disturb_ sign on Sango’s hotel room door. Which meant that…

Yeah, Sango was _not_ sleeping in her own room that night.

But instead of being filled with dread, Sango felt annoyed, yes, but also...relieved? Elated? Eager?

Because this meant the night was not yet over. That she would be sharing a room with Miroku, where...the possibilities would be endless. And, as pissed as she was at her best friend, another part of her was _very_ excited to see where things with Miroku would go.

“Well,” said Miroku, and _wow_ , did his voice sound as strained with need as she felt, “it looks like you and I will be…”

“Yeah,” Sango said, and did _her_ voice just go really high-pitched? _Great._ “So it does.”

Miroku looked at her, and Sango saw her own desire reflected in his indigo eyes. He reached out and took her hand, and used it to draw her to him. “Is that…” he said slowly, “is that okay?”

Sango took a breath. This was it. This was her moment. Her chance. To go after what she wanted. 

And _dammit_ , she wanted _him_.

“Yeah,” she said softly, deeply, meaningfully, her hand squeezing his. “I think...that sounds perfect.”

Miroku nearly choked, but recovered and cleared his throat. He took out his wallet and his own keycard. When he turned back to her, she saw that he was grinning, and she couldn’t help but grin back. 

“Come on,” he said, going across the hall and inserting the keycard in the lock, “let’s get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable, shall we?” He pushed the door open, and Sango stepped inside. 

The room looked like a mirror image of Kagome and Sango’s...nope, Kagome and _Inuyasha’s_...room. The bathroom was to their immediate left, and a closet for their shoes and Miroku’s jacket to the right. Sango walked ahead of Miroku into the room, and stopped short. When she’d noted that the rooms were mirror images, she didn’t realize how much they were...mirror images.

Miroku came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned his head on her shoulder, and nuzzled her neck. “Yeah,” he rumbled, “you noticed, huh?”

One bed. There was one bed.

One bed that she and Miroku were going to...share.

“I did,” she commented lightly, vacillating between nervousness and excitement. “But I think that I want to freshen up, if that’s okay?”

He kissed the nape of her neck, and she nearly came undone at the feel of his lips on her. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “I’ll be here.”

Miroku let her go—somewhat reluctantly, she thought—and flopped onto the bed. He smirked at her. “Room enough for two, Sango dear,” he said, and she couldn’t help it: she giggled.

“I won’t be long,” she said, and opened the closet door. She slipped off her shoes and hung up Miroku’s jacket, and took one of the plush robes hanging in the closet. Since she didn’t have any clothes to wear ( _thanks again, Ka-Go-Me_ , she thought, but only a little sourly), she was grateful that she’d have something to put on once she got out of this dress. 

“Wait, Sango,” Miroku said, springing up off the bed. He crossed the room to her, his indigo eyes flashing. “I can’t,” he said, catching her up in his arms, his voice suddenly thick with desire, “I can’t let you go just yet.” 

“Miroku?” she asked. “What—what are you?”

“Not yet,” he said, “please.” And he kissed her, hard, and deep, and fierce. His hands tugged at her ponytail, yanking at the elastic until her hair spilled free. Sango found herself fully caught up in the kiss, her mind reeling, her body responding to the way that his lips moved on hers, the way that his fingers tangled in her hair, the way that his hips pressed into hers.

“Miroku,” Sango breathed, “can we…”

“Can we what?” he whispered.

“Get cleaned up,” she whispered back. 

“So can we get dirty again?” She nodded, and he smiled and kissed her again. Miroku dropped her hands to her shoulders and toyed with the fabric hem. “May I?” he asked. “Help you with your dress?”

Sango was breathless. When had Kuranosuke...ever asked her permission to do something? Normally he just did, and she went along with things, no questions asked. But here was a man, looking for consent, looking to make sure that she was comfortable with what he wanted to do, and it was... _sexy_. 

Like, _really_ sexy.

She smiled. “You may,” she replied, and when his fingers slipped between the fabric and her skin, she quivered, the heat rising through her body. Miroku leaned forward and kissed her, again, as his hands pushed the dress down, off her shoulders, and down, past her waist, to a pool on the floor, leaving her in just her bodysuit. She stepped out of her dress, her fingers itching to undo the buttons on his shirt next. “May I?” she whispered against his lips.

Miroku groaned and rubbed her arms. “Sango,” he said, “yes, please, yes.”

Sango immediately went to work, even as his tongue penetrated her mouth and danced with hers. He was chuckling as he was kissing her; Sango knew it was because he thought distracting her was at least a little bit funny, but _dammit_ , she wanted his clothes off, immediately.

[ ](https://kalcia.tumblr.com/post/641667139296804864/happy-birthday-sapphirestarxx-commission-for)

Commissioned Artwork by [kalcia](https://kalcia.tumblr.com/)

* * *

One by one, the buttons of his shirt came free, and Sango then loosened his tie, which she ripped from around his neck and tossed to the side. She tore his shirt up and out from his suit pants; his tongue still in her mouth, she shoved his shirt down his arms, and he gave it one last shake to remove it completely. Underneath, he wore a white undershirt, and she made quick work of that, as well, breaking the kiss just long enough to get his shirt over his head. She took a moment to run her hands over his torso, reveling in the definition of his pecs, his abs, all the way down to the waistband of his suit pants. She worked her fingers through the belt buckle, unhooking it, and tossing the belt off to the side. 

“Pants,” she breathed, and he nodded, leaving a trail of kisses from her lips, down her neck, to her collarbone.

“Holy gods, Sango,” he moaned when he saw her bodysuit, “holy _gods_.” 

It was a nude color, with clear plastic straps looping around her shoulders and under her arms to keep it in place. The front was two cups, connected with another clear plastic strap to support her breasts, and an open front, dipping below her navel. “I need to...turn you around,” he rasped, and with his hands on her hips, he gently spun her in a circle; when he saw the low back, and the high cut that gave her a cheeky look, he audibly groaned, and pulled her to him so that her back was pressed against his chest.

“How are you so beautiful?” he whispered in her ear, his hands circling her middle. “So, so beautiful.”

Sango reached up with one hand and tucked it behind his head, grasping for his ponytail so she could shake it loose. Her other hand tucked between them and unbuttoned his pants, then unzipped them. “Is this okay?” she whispered. He nodded, then moaned again and attacked her neck in earnest as she dipped her hand inside his underwear and began to work over his cock.

“Do...do you have to get cleaned up?” He was practically sobbing now; she could hear it in his voice as she stroked his length delicately, pressing her thumb into the underside and dragging it along. 

“I do,” she said slowly, adding, “but...I don’t have to do it alone.”

He turned her around again and took her by the back of her neck, tilting her face upwards to meet his. “I would be...delighted...to get cleaned up with you, Sango,” he said, and slanted his lips over hers, nibbling at her lower lip, groaning as she made quick work of his pants. She sent them down his hips, his legs; he kicked them away as they pooled around his feet. Her fingers ghosted his cock through his boxer briefs; his hands palmed her breasts. Then, his fingers worked at the bodysuit clasp between her breasts, but he was fumbling. She giggled.

“Here,” she told him, “let me.” She stepped in front of the mirror so she could better see what she was doing; Miroku stood behind her, watching appreciatively as she undid the hook in the front, then the ones under each arm. He stepped forward, his hands on her shoulders. 

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded softly, her brown eyes captured by his indigo ones as his hands slipped down her arms, taking the bodysuit straps with them. She shrugged out of the straps, then his hands moved to between her breasts, where he toyed with the fabric resting there. Slowly, carefully, he pushed the cups of the bodysuit back, aside, and down. He replaced the cup on the left side with his mouth, his lips fitting over her left nipple and sucking lightly, worrying it between his teeth, rolling it to a hard pebble. Sango moaned, and gripped his shoulders, her entire body quaking at his touch. His hands pushed at the bodysuit, working it over her hips and down her legs, all the while his mouth worked its magic on her breast. Satisfied with the first, he dragged his tongue across the valley between her breasts to focus on the right one next, her body already keening for him, shifting so that her breast was full in his face. She bent over slightly to help him with the bodysuit, because Sango was _done_.

She was done with clothes; she was done with stripping. She wanted to be naked, and in the shower with him. And she wanted it _now_.

“Mi—Miroku,” she gasped as his hands dragged across her hips to tease the soft curls outlining her sex, “I—I want to—”

“What do you want, my dear Sango?” he murmured, now actively licking her nipple and teasing it with his tongue.

“Sh—shower,” she breathed.

He drew himself away from her breast and stood up, pressing his forehead to hers. His hands roamed her body, weaving in and out of her most delicate parts, and she swore that she didn’t know which end was up. “Do—do we have to shower first, Sango?” he asked her, his tongue darting out and licking her nose. “We—we could always clean up afterwards. I promise that I’ll take good care of you, always.”

_Always_? Sango’s eyes grew wide.

“What—what are you thinking, Miroku?” she whispered. 

His lips were now hovering above her ear; his breath was hot and made her shiver. “I’m thinking,” he said, “that you’re naked, and glorious, and I want to worship every inch of you, and that I can’t wait another second to have you on that bed.”

Sango’s mind reeled. Normally, Kuranosuke had always liked her to be “clean” before sex, but Miroku seemed to imply that he didn’t care, and that, in fact, he would help her clean up afterwards, and give her the kind of attention she had always yearned for.

Sango’s eyes gleamed; she wanted to know what it was like, to feel as though she was the only one that mattered to a man, that he would be with her, and only her, and not be distracted by anyone else. 

Here, and now, in this moment? It was only she, and Miroku. And he was handsome, and sexy, and holy gods, he _wanted_ her in a way that maybe no man had ever wanted her before. And Sango found that she wanted _him_ in a way that she had never wanted anyone else before. She cupped his cheeks in her hands, and brought his face back to even with hers.

“Yes,” she breathed, “ _now_. I—I don’t want to wait, either.” And she kissed him, long, and hard, and deep; his hands went to her ass and she jumped into his arms, the heat of her sex nestled snugly against his groin, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs and already pressing into her thigh. Miroku carried her to the bed, then laid her down tenderly; Sango could feel his gaze raking the full length of her body. He dropped his hands to the mattress, pulled his knees up, and crawled forward so that he was over her. His eyes burning a dark, vibrant indigo; he held her own brown eyes steady for a moment, then dropped to her legs, where he began to lick the whole of her body. His tongue dragged slowly up, from her right ankle, up her calf, behind her knee, and then slowly, up the length of her thigh. Sango’s breath hitched; she was tingling from the anticipation of where his tongue would go next. He drug it up close to the heat of her sex—and she _whined_ when he got close; oh, gods, what was she becoming?—and whined even more when he skipped her already glistening folds to trail down the length of her other leg.

“Miroku,” Sango begged. When had her voice ever been so needy? When had she ever wanted something, _someone_ , so badly? 

Never. She had _never_. And now that she wanted it? He was going to make her wait for it.

She tried to rub her thighs together in anticipation, but Miroku rumbled against her knee and placed his hands between her legs. “Not until I’m there,” he purred, running his lips along her skin and making her moan softly, “you can’t close your legs until they’re around my head.”

Sango may have whimpered at that statement, but she didn’t care. Because in the next moment, his fingers worked their way up her leg, and his thumb and forefinger tucked themselves away into her soft folds of her sex. She cried out—she couldn’t help it—as they gently teased apart her furred lips, searching for the hardened little pearl that was hidden deeply there. “A...a little higher,” she breathed, and he listened, his fingers moving upwards, and finding it at last. He pressed his thumb into her clit, and massaged it gently, moving around it in a circular motion. All the while, his tongue was making it back up her leg, back to the juncture of her thighs, and back to the heat of her sex.

“Sango,” Miroku said huskily, his eyes peering at her from their position between her legs, “I want to make you feel so good. Will you please let me?”

“But,” she said quickly, realizing what he was about to do, “I—I don’t…”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about anything, my darling Sango,” he said, now making himself quite comfortable between her thighs, the pad of his thumb still working her over. “You smell divine, you know...and I think that you’ll taste? Even better.” And he pressed the flat of his tongue up against her opening, then thrust it inside. 

His tongue was long, and surprisingly strong...they had kissed, and it had been inside her mouth, but that did not prepare her in the least for how it would feel up against her walls. It pressed up inside her, thrusting in and out, flicking against her, searching out what felt good for her, what felt right. Every time his tongue caressed her, she gasped, and sighed, and twisted her fists in the sheets. Every time his thumb pressed down on her clit, she moaned his name and begged for more. 

“More?” he growled between her legs, still nosing his way through the soft lips of her sex. “You want more?”

“Oh, fucking help me,” she begged, “please, please, I do.”

Miroku switched out his fingers and his tongue, inserting his second and third fingers into her aching opening, her walls immediately closing in on them, drawing them in. His tongue went back to lapping at her clit as his fingers gently opened her up. Her body was resisting, the tension coiling in her core and spreading out to the rest of her body. Sango felt a new sort of burning inside her: the more he worked her over, the more she wanted to see: how close could he bring her to the edge? How close could he take her to heaven? Because as far as she could tell, with every lick, every nimble caress, every brush against the muscle that gave her so much pleasure? His fingers, his tongue...all of him really, Sango knew now...was magic, and he was weaving a spell about her where, with one snap of his fingers, it would break apart and she would be done.

She felt the scrape of his teeth against her swollen bud; she felt the pads of his fingers pressing against her walls. She felt the fire in her body taking hold, washing away the darkness that had a hold on her heart. It was burning everything away, leaving her clean, and refreshed, and new. 

And ready for whatever was going to come. Tonight. With Miroku. And maybe, the next day, and next day, too.

And then he gave her a suck, a swirl, and several scissored pumps, and Sango’s world went electric; her eyes sparked and her ears crackled and she moaned for Miroku as she came, hard, and fast, her body nearly spasming as her head fell back against the pillow. Miroku swiftly replaced his fingers with his tongue, gently inserting it in her, tongue-fucking her through her orgasm, catching her cum as he helped her down from her high.

As she shuddered to a rest, he removed his tongue, and grunted lightly as he pulled himself up beside her on the bed. He placed a kiss on her temple, and she sighed. “You are...that was…” She had no words. For the first time in her life, Taijiya Sango was speechless.

Miroku’s hand trailed down the inside of her arm, tickling it lightly. “Are you good, Sango?’ he asked her. “Because if you are, I would be happy to just hold you, the rest of the night. Just like this. You...and me.”

His words nearly made Sango weep with happiness. Here was a man who not only asked for consent, but played her body like she was a violin and he was the maestro, and now? Was willing to stop, and wait until she was ready?

“I—I am ready, Miroku,” she found herself saying. “I want you, _all of you_ , and I want you now.” She paused, and rolled so that she was facing him on the bed. “You’ve been...the perfect fake boyfriend,” she said softly. “And maybe...maybe I want to see if you would want to be my…” Her voice got impossibly quiet. “My real boyfriend.”

Miroku’s eyes gleamed in the low light of the room, and Sango thought she saw a soft blush creeping up over his cheeks.

“Sango,” he breathed, “to...be with you, for real? Like, not as your fake boyfriend?” Sango nodded, not looking him in the face. How could she? This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a thing that he did as a favor to her, and now she was about to have sex with him and she dropped _this_ bomb? Oh, what was _wrong with her_?

And then he was on her, like really on her, caging her between his hands as he pressed down from above and kissed her urgently, his body moving, his still-clothed cock rubbing against her groin, the fabric chafing her delicate skin. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and without realizing it, she was thrusting herself onto his cock, her body crying out for him to strip and to take her. 

“To be with you,” he was whispering, now peppering her face with kisses, “is what I have been dreaming of since I first met you, Sango. It’s been you, and only you, since that day, and I want it to be only you, from now on.”

“Miroku,” was all she could say.

He got off the bed, and went to his pants, which were on the floor. He picked them up, and pulled out his wallet, from which he withdrew a small plastic-wrapped disc. Sango knew what it was, and she whined, her feet digging into the sheets with anticipation. He smiled at her enthusiasm, and he tossed the condom onto the bed.

“In order to put _that_ on,” he said, giving her a saucy wink, “I need to take _these_ off.” 

“Then hurry it up,” she replied, “because I _need_ to see what you look like without them.”

Miroku didn’t waste time; in a few swift movements he slipped his boxer briefs over his hips and down his legs, allowing his cock to finally spring free. Sango gasped; she had felt it in his pants, but to see it? It was thick, veiny, plush; she longed to take it into her hands and see if the skin was as soft as it looked. “Miroku,” she said harshly, “ _come here_.”

He was at the side of the bed in an instant; Sango’s hands wrapped around his dick, and brought him closer to her. She in turn crept closer to him, and when she reached his cock, she closed her eyes, held it firmly in her hands, and dragged her cheek down the length of the shaft lovingly, eagerly. When she reached the base, she nestled her face between his cock, his sac, and the soft dark hairs of his groin. She stayed there for a moment, enjoying the feel of his most intimate areas against her face. He was soft, and his hands were on her shoulders, gentle, tender, and she just thought that she _had_ to try.

Sango snaked out her tongue, and wrapped it around his cock, then dragged her tongue up, up, up, to the mushroom head, which she then caught between her lips and sucked, hard, her tongue swirling. Miroku’s grunt was otherworldly, and he gripped her shoulders tightly as she began to go down on him.

Even from her position, lying on the bed, Sango was able to get a good grip and develop a decent rhythm. Her mouth was just big enough to go around his cock, and the feel of him filling her there—his hot, warm cock filling her _there_ —made her think about another place she wanted him to fill her, and body began to tense up all over again. She gripped him tightly, pumping the shaft as she sucked, swirled, and licked. He felt so good in her mouth, and she wanted to keep going. One of her hands dropped to his sac, where she gently massaged, and offered a tiny squeeze, pressing down and holding in place as she sucked. Miroku moaned above her, and just as she increased her efforts, he caught her gently by the cheeks and popped her backwards, off his cock.

“What—why?” She blinked at him, not understanding.

“ _Because_ ,” Miroku said, and _holy hell_ did he look sorry he had to say this, “we’ll have to start all over again if you keep going. And I would much rather put this to good use, wouldn’t you?” He picked up the condom, tossed it once in the air, and looked meaningfully at her.

“ _Oh_.” Sango immediately understood. She scooted back on the bed and watched him with interest as he opened the wrapper, took out the small latex item, flicked it a few times, then rolled it down his cock. As he approached her again, she held out her arms welcomingly; when he climbed onto her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him close. “Hey,” she whispered, tilting her lips up for a kiss, which he gave her eagerly.

“Hey,” he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “Are you ready?” 

She nodded. “Definitely.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, filling it with all the love and desire that he felt in his heart for her. Sango swooned a little under the pressure of the kiss, and her body tensed as she felt him reach between them. His hand brushed against her clit, causing her to cry out, and then he reached for his own cock and guided it towards her entrance. “Sango,” he breathed.

“Miroku,” she sighed, and her sighs turned to a soft cry as he buried himself in her.

He was hot, even through the latex, and he paused for a moment to allow Sango to become used to him inside her. Her body stretched and gave way for him, but she didn’t need a moment. She didn’t even need a second. She wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust her hips up into his, signaling to him that she wanted to continue. He kissed her, tenderly, her arms circling his neck and tangling in his hair, their bodies pressed together as they began to move.

It was a slow, steady rhythm; Sango allowed Miroku to set the pace, and used her heels against the small of his back to help her follow every push and pull of his body. She closed her eyes as he buried his face in her neck, his cock thrusting into her, her hips pressing back into him. It was gentle, and loving, and Miroku offered her small kisses, licks, and nips along her neck and collarbone, giving her the attention, the _worship_ , that she desired. 

Sango’s hands roamed his back, his arms, even up into his hair. She needed to touch him, to feel the way his muscles tensed and released with every movement; to hear the way that he said her name, so softly, over and over; to see his deep indigo eyes, gazing down at her with love as he moved in her. She felt the entire core of her being heating up, burning, her walls pulsing each time he entered her, squeezing, pushing, resisting, but taking him in. 

All too much. And not enough.

“Sango,” he breathed, his lips ghosting hers. Her heels dug into the small of his back, and her entire body sang when he moved his hips in a circular motion. “Sango.” His breath was warm, and smelled faintly of cake and sake. She pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss, using her legs to deepen the angle at which he entered her, both of them moaning as he pressed further in. 

This was it: the thing that Sango had been waiting for, maybe her entire life. To feel loved, whole, complete. To feel free. To feel vulnerable, safe, protected. To feel all those things, and more. 

Her body sang each time they moved together. Her voice was soft, and clear, and full of longing, each time she asked him to keep going. And her eyes...his eyes... _their_ eyes. Sango couldn’t stop looking at him; she couldn’t stop her roaming hands; she couldn’t stop her heart from filling with love.

And then, just as quickly as it began, her body betrayed her; she felt herself growing impossibly hot and tense: a string, burning through the middle, ready to snap at any moment. He nuzzled her neck, and slipped a hand under her ass to hoist her a little bit higher, and that was all that it took. Sango gripped his shoulders and cried out, her hips jerking into his, her body squeezing his as she came. Miroku groaned at the sudden force of her orgasm, thrust into her several more times, and threw his head back as he emptied into the condom, her name dropping from his lips, his head falling forward onto her shoulder.

Sango wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, stroking his spine, enjoying the feel of his rapid heartbeat against her chest. Slowly, Miroku rolled to his side, sliding out of her, but bringing her along with him. She smiled, the warm afterglow of sex filling her with a deep-seated joy. She felt his arms around her; his face nuzzled her hair.

“You are incredible, Sango,” he breathed. “So incredible. Thank—thank you.”

“For what?” She traced his jawline with her fingers, and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. “I should be thanking you. For today. For tonight. For everything.”

Miroku rubbed his lips against hers gently. “I didn’t think that I would start today with a fake girlfriend, and end the day with a real one, that’s for sure,” he told her. Sango giggled and snuggled more deeply into his arms. He allowed her to rest there for a moment, but then pulled her up to a seated position with him. “Now, now, my dear Sango,” he said with a smile, “I believe that you had asked to get ‘cleaned up’ after the wedding. And what kind of real boyfriend would I be if I denied that request? Besides,” he added, “if I clean you up, I get to make you dirty all over again.”

Sango giggled and drew him to her for another kiss. “If you wash me down,” she whispered, “I’ll make sure to do the same for you. My real boyfriend. Who took me on the best, most perfect first date ever.”

* * *

When Inuyasha and Kagome opened the door to their hotel room the next morning, the first thing they saw was a white _Do Not Disturb_ sign hanging from the door of the room across the hall. Kagome nudged Inuyasha, who grunted and hefted the bags over his shoulder with one hand. 

Kagome walked over to the door and fingered the sign gently. “It looks like we did it, Inuyasha,” she said, a triumphant smile on her face.

“Keh,” he said gruffly, “this one was all you, ‘Gome.”

She sighed and looked at the door. “Still,” she murmured, “I wonder what they’re doing in there.”

Inuyasha shrugged. “At this point? Probably sleeping,” he commented. He reached out and pulled a feather out of her hair. “Because they were probably up doing what _we_ were doing most of the night,” he added. 

Kagome took the feather out of his hand, looked at it, and giggled. “Well,” she said playfully, “they weren’t doing _everything_ we did last night now, were they?”

Inuyasha leaned over and captured her lips in a soft kiss. “Definitely not,” he said. “As far as I know, we’re the _only_ ones who do _that_.”

What Inuyasha and Kagome didn’t know was that, on the other side of the door, Sango and Miroku were _not_ asleep; they were in bed, but very much awake, celebrating their new status as a couple yet again. 

Sleep would come later. For now? Sango knew: she wanted her perfect date with Miroku to never, ever end. And if she had her say, it never would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final happy birthday to [SapphireStarxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireStarxx)! I hope you had a wonderful birthday week, love! And to everyone, thanks to much for reading, and see you soon!


End file.
